*******
The Attu had taken shelter from the storm in the inlet bay of an unpopulated small island, but now, the sleek length of the trireme ploughed through the calm seas. Kaonigai stood at the prow, eyes squinting into the distance, eager to catch sight of his prey.
Men called him the Eel behind his back. Those foolish or brave enough to use that epithet within his earshot didn’t live long. Kaonigai didn’t think it fitting the scion of a once great Cheng family be associated with a slippery, slimy, ugly sea-creature. And few chose to dispute the point with the deadliest swordsman on the high seas.
The Vilrahel was notorious for corsairs and cut-throats who preyed on fat merchantmen sailing between the eastern and the western continents, carrying precious cargoes such as silk and spices one way, and metal-and leather-worked goods the other way.
Tired of these costly irritants, the Emerald Kingdom’s navy conducted a campaign to make the sea-lanes safer. It was largely successful, but the most cunning sea-rogue always managed eel-like, to slip through their grasp. Some said corrupt officials in the Emerald court, grown rich from their share of his plunder, informed him when the ships of the kingdom's navy were abroad, so he could lay low at port.
Seeing a blot in the distance, Kaonigai lifted his spy-glass to an eye. A cunningly fashioned cylindrical device, the glass on one end somehow magnified objects so one could see things at a far distance with greater clarity. It had been given to him by a fat merchant who hoped the unusual gift would cause the corsair to spare him. Kaonigai grinned, remembering the long evening of pleasure the merchant had provided as he screamed, blubbered, and pleaded for mercy, as the fires and sharp knives ever so deliciously reduced him to a mewling pitiful shell.
The merchantman loomed large in his spyglass. His contacts had told him the Mingzhu was carrying a shipment of gold, expensive silks, and a young female courtier bound for the western continent. Kaonigai licked his lips. A proud, haughty courtier under his knives would be a rare pleasure indeed.
He snarled an order down the hatch by his feet. The whips of the oar masters cracked across the backs of the slave-rowers and the Attu surged forward.